


AUgust 2020

by Dans-le-Vif (Criz)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: AUgust - Freeform, AUgust 2020, BDSM, Crossdressing, Drag, Genderbending, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26200345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Criz/pseuds/Dans-le-Vif
Summary: here's the master post collecting all the works for AUgust 2020 featuring characters from The Muskteers (BBC version) - 99% Richelieu (Capaldieu), sometimes Tréville and my OC at some pointsome of those prompts were taken from some huge AU list I had found, others were provided by our little groupsome are cute, some are odd, some are wild, some are way out thereI hope you are entertained (nope, no Gladiator!AU though ... dammit, why didn't I think of that earlier >_< )31 drawings and in a few rare cases also some additional writing
Relationships: Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu/Jean du Peyrer de Treville, Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu/de Tréville (Trois Mousquetaires)
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1




	2. Chapter 2




	3. Chapter 3




	4. Chapter 4




	5. Chapter 5




	6. Chapter 6




	7. Chapter 7




	8. Chapter 8




	9. Chapter 9




	10. Chapter 10




	11. Chapter 11

\-----

I am Sparta!

== At some time during the Peloponnesian War ==

The celebrations were in full swing after the long tiresome talks had concluded. Everyone was indulging in the food, the wine and the many distractions their host had prepared for them.

Everyone except one. Plesidas of Sparta walked around the shallow pool in the middle of the yard, always flanked by two guards. Even though they did not carry any weapons as per the rules and due to the party only wore a light toga, their purpose was easy to guess. Those two guards were only the ones that operated in the open. Doubtless there were others hidden and mingling with the guests.

Suddenly their path was blocked by one of the Athenian delegation, Polemarch Troikates, who wore nothing except a small towel wrapped around hips. He emptied his cup, possibly not his first, and addressed Plesidas.

"Stop looking so grumpy. Neither of us got everything we came here to negotiate for. A perfect compromise." A handsome young man approached him and offered another cup of wine. Troikates took it in one hand and let the other slide across the shoulder and down the servant's back, sending the man off with a pat on the butt, before he addressed the older man again. "Do us all a favour and enjoy some of the refreshments here. You could use it."

"I do not fuck servant boys." Plesidas countered while trying to swerve around the Athenian, but the other man was quick to block Plesidas' path again.

"Perhaps a bit of wine would help lessen those grooves between your eyes a little." He vaguely gestured at Plesidas' face.

"I would hardly call that spill 'wine'." Plesidas made another attempt to walk past the Polemarch.

"Have you tried it? Or is it too strong for you?"

The Spartan knew it was bait. Slowly and deliberately he turned to the pesky Athenian and stared him in the eyes.

"Don't think I don't know why they send you." Troikates said. "There aren't many Spartans with your reputation. Tell me, how does it feel to be one of the few Spartans who can count to ten without using fingers?"

The guards looked to the man in charge. They didn't say a word, but they were begging him to let them loose with every fibre of their being.

Plesidas scoffed, "I could say the same about you, Polemarch. A nation of drunk talkers and who do they send to the negotiations? A soldier to impress us?" He scoffed again and looked up and down the other man. "A soldier by Athenian standards perhaps. You wouldn't last a day in the Spartan army."

"Neither would you." Came the dry reply.

A low blow. Everyone knew it was a great tragedy for the Spartans of the time. Plesidas had been one of the most promising soldiers they had every had before he had fallen ill. His brilliant mind trapped in a failing body, wrecked by fever and phantasms. A tragedy for Sparta, but even more so for the man himself who lived in a society that valued physical health and prowess in battle above all else.

Plesidas turned to leave.

Then spun around and kicked Troikates which sent the Polemarch crashing unto the low basin of water with a yelp.

Plesidas looked down on the other man and turned to leave for good.

"Oh no, you don't!"

Troikates grabbed the long red robes, pulled and watched with satisfaction as Plesidas landed next to him with a splash.

His laughter resounded in the yard.

He wasn't laughing for long. Plesidas rushed at him, pressed his forearm against the Athenian's throat and hissed at his face. 

"Give me one good reason not to!"

Troikates felt a sting digging into his neck. Perhaps bits of the Spartan's bracelet were sharpened to be used as a weapon if need be. Or to free himself from restraints should he be taken captive.

"One. Good. Reason."

Moments passed. 

Troikates leaned forward and kissed Plesidas with vigour. He brought his hands to the Spartan's butt and pulled him closer. Plesidas returned the kiss at first, then pushed the other man away.

"What did you do that for?"

"Isn't it obvious? I don't hide anything." Troikates stood there with open arms, the towel that had covered the Athenian before floated in the water next to him.

Slowly he approached the Spartan again and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. 

"Neither do your wet robes." 

Plesidas didn't need to look. He could feel the weight of the wet cloth tugging against his hard cock. 

He took a deep breath and announced that he'd go back to his quarters to change, dragging the soaked robes across the floor and giving Troikates a look as he went through the door that was clearly an invitation. 

The Athenian had wrung out the towel as best as he could and wrapped it around himself again. There was hardly any subtlety in the amount of time that he waited before following Plesidas.

"Are you confused? Because I ... I'm just confused now." Said one of the guards to the other as they stood by the pool debating whether they should follow them or not.

\---


	12. Chapter 12




	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Regent Richelieu anyone? ;)


	14. Chapter 14




	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fallen Angel Richelieu holding one of Guardian Angel Tréville's feathers


	16. Chapter 16




	17. Chapter 17




	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> imagine if Tréville was a gruff detective/cop and recently there have been several murders (they may even look like suicides) that don't seem related at first glance, but Tréville has a hunch. As he keeps investigating he stumbles deeper and deeper into some spy business and because he's stubborn af he doesn't listen to his chief to stop and just goes on.  
> While investigating a crime scenes an agent attacks him only for him to be saved by Spychelieu. This goes on and on. Someone always tries to kill Tréville and Richelieu always saves his life. At some point he just shoots cables from the things on his wrist, grabs Tréville and they escape batman style or something. Armand incrasingly teasing Jean about being a damsel in distress and the latter being increasingly irritated by it and insisting he is NOT   
> probably while being rescued by Richelieu again.


	19. Chapter 19




	20. Chapter 20




	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trucker!Tréville and the difference between giving someone a lift and giving someone a ride ... *coughcough*

\-----

Armand turned the keys of his trusty old Peugeot again. 

Again. 

And again. 

But the sound it produced wasn't good. He didn't know much about cars. He knew some technical details. A lot of technical details actually.

He could explain the engines, even draw a simplified diagram, go into details of the various ways of electrical car engines, but as far as the practical aspect of cars went, he basically had no clue. Still he could tell that the sound wasn't good.

Armand usually didn't drive much anyway, he preferred trains by far as they offered an opportunity get some work done. However, his latest trip had taken him to Luçon and public transport there was notoriously bad.

'Just take the car,' they said.

'It'll be fun,' they said.

Armand turned the key again. Nothing but the same hoarse stuttering.

"Et tu, Brute, et tu ..."

He took a deep breath, got out of the car and walked to the front. Armand opened the hood and studied the inside intensly for two minutes straight.

Yes, he had no clue about the practical side of cars. He closed the hood again. Instead he pulled out his cell-phone and started dialing. He had managed to pull into the parking lot of a highway rest stop before his car fully broke down.

After about an hour and several calls to the information service and numerous tow service he had found one that offered to pick him up as son as possible, but they still had another job to do first.

Something at least

Something at last

Armand let out a frustrated sigh. He had wandered off quite a bit.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and a gust of wind brushed against him. Armand looked around and then up because he suddenly realized how dark everything had become while he had been busy on the phone. Not because it had gotten too late, but because clouds had gathered.

Oh no, you don't.

In that moment the drops began to fall. 

More drops, faster and bigger, and the light shower turned into a down pour.

Armand hurried back to his car. In his haste he dropped the keys and by the time he was finally in his car he was soaked to the bone.

The shirt was sticking to his body, water dripped from his hair and Armand looked out the window of his car trying to process where this day had started to go so horrible wrong.

A minute later the rain lessened and after two minutes it stopped save for a few drops here and there. The clouds opened up and the warm summer sun returned.

Armand's head dropped forward on the steering wheel. He didn't care that the car horn blared. If he would resort to such language you could say he no longer gave a fuck.

\-----

The peugeot's car horn sounded a couple more times, but shorter. Indicating that the driver banged his head down a few more times.

"That's what I call entertainment." Said one of the truckers over the radio, chiming in with the laughter of the others.

"What do you think he does for a living?" Asked another sitting in the truck that was parked on the opposite side of the parking lot.

"Smuggling sticks in his ass."

They kept laughing and making fun of him for another ten minutes until Tréville announced that play time was over.

"Aww, come one, why?"

"Yeah, it's the best."

"Cause I said so."

"Aye, Captain."

"Aye, Captain." mocked someone else.

"Don't make me come over there."

Tréville left his truck and walked over to the Peugeot. The driver leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed and jumped when Jean knocked on his window. He cranked the wind to open the window a tiny bit. The man looked absolutely miserable.

"Yes?"

Jean gestured towards the hood. "Hi, let me guess, car broke down, you called a tow service and now you're waiting for them."

"Yes ... so?"

"They won't come."

Armand resisted the urge to close the window again. This almost sounded like a threat. A well meaning threat if such a thing existed, but still. He furrowed his brow.

"Not for a while anyway. Been on the radio and heard the down pour caused a big crash on the highway up ahead. No deaths luckily, bit a lot of bent metal. Your tow service is gonna be occupied for a while along with any other in the area."

Richelieu softly banged his head a few times against the head rest, weighing his options and trying to figure out what to do.

Jean gauged the car, assessing that it was way too small for a man that tall to sleep in there comfortably unless he could fold himself like a pretzel.

"If you don't want to sleep in here you could come with me."

Richelieu eyed him suspiciously.

"Fine, suit yourself. Keep the wet shirt on while you're at it. Nothing wrong with a proper summer flu." He banged the roof of the car twice and left.

Armand could still hear him muttering and swearing as he crossed the parking lot. Perhaps he had been wrong in assuming any untowards intentions and the guy just wanted to help. But after a day like this it seemed unlikely.

\-----

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door of Tréville's truck.

"Had a change of mind?"

"Yes ... if your offer still stands."

He chuckled. "Go over to the co-driver seat." 

"One hand here, the other there, foot there. Push yourself upwards with the leg on the ground and pull up." He made room for the other man to enter.

The hair was less unruly and the shirt sat better than before. Armand had made an effort to try to look a tiny bit more presentable. At least he no longer looked like the wet cat mjeem Jean's sister had sent him on Whats App a while ago.

He stuck out is hand. "I'm Jean by the way. The others mostly call me Captain."

Armand shook the offered hand. "I am Armand. Some call me Eminence."

"Oh, I'm in the presence of royalty?"

"Actually it is a clerical title. You would address a Cardinal that way."

"Man of the cloth then? Travelling incognito?"

Armand shook his head. "No, some just call me that."

"Speaking of cloth. You don't have another shirt to change into?"

"No, I planned for a one day trip. Drive there, fix some things, drive back to Paris."

"Turned into one hell of a day."

"... one hell of a day." Armand repeated absentmindedly with a sigh.

"Hang on I should have some unworn shirts." He moved to the sleeping area behind the seats and rummaged around in one of the wall cabinets. A brief sniff to check if it was fresh enough, then he pushed it into Armand's hands, who unfolded the shirt and spread it in front of him.

"At least it won't be too small." Jean commented.

\-----

They talked some more. Surprisingly to Armand, he wouldn't have guessed that there were enough topics he could talk about with this man. The trucker also offered him some of his food, though it took a while to find something that both Armand's taste and his stomach would agree upon.

They watched the sun set. Armand couldn't remember when it was the last time that he consciously sat down to do so.

"Okey. I gotta rest now. Tomorrow's a long day for me."

"Good night then."

"Good night." Jean said, turned around and fell asleep.

Armand looked out the window from the sleep space some more. He sat like that for five more minutes.

"Jean?"

But Jean was already asleep.

No one falls asleep that fast.

Armand looked at him bewildered as far as it was possible in the waning light that still came through the curtains he just closed.

"Jean?" He repeated, still softly, because he only wanted to test if Jean was really asleep, yet didn't want to wake him rudely.

"Jeeeeeaaa-han?" Armand said once more, giving Jean's belly a slight nudge.

It was unexpectedly soft. 

He nudged it again. Not too flabby though. 

Armand pushed it a little further in and then let it bounce back. His hand petted across the soft curve before he slipped it underneath. The weight rested on his fingers. He liked it.

"What are you doing?" Jean aksed sleepily.

The hand whipped back and Armand was glad that the driver's cabin was too dark for Jean to see him blushing. "Nothing."

"Issit time to get up yet?" Jean rubbed his eyes. "Looks like it's still dark."

"The sun just set, you barely slept."

Jean rolled in his back, one arm casually behind his head to prop it up a bit, but he didn't say anything at first.

"Did you like it?"

"What?"

"Touching it."

Armand turned several shades of red and it felt as if his face was on fire. His whole body in fact. Burning with ... he didn't know exactly. Shame? Desire? ... lust?

"No one in your book club got a bit of comfort padding?"

"I am a tenured professor at a university, we are not a book club!"

"Sounds like a cozy position though. Sitting around, being smart and all. None of them getting a bit too comfortable around the midsection? Or do they just not want you to get touchy-feely?"

What was there to say? Armand didn't answer, he merely continued to avoid Jean's eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes.

"You don't have to feel me up in the dark, you know. You could just ask."

"Maybe it would be better if I slept in my car after all." Armand turned to leave.

"You're not the type to ask though, are you?." 

Armand stopped, but then he had not been in any particular hurry to leave and wasn't even half-way past the curtain.

"What is your thing then? Do you like to just take what you want?"

Despite how it must have looked considering what he had done moments ago. No, that wasn't it. He didn't just take as he pleased.

"Do you like it when it's offered?" With his free hand Jean began to caress Armand between the legs. "You're lucky, Prof. I'm up for grabs tonight."

Armand could hardly claim that he wanted to return to his car while growing harder every moment Jean's broad hand kept massaging his privates.

"But there are two things."

"Let's hear them." Jean sounded amused.

"First, this isn't just about touching your ... you. I go a little ... curious. Things got out of hand."

"Funny, it felt like things got into hand."

"And that's the second thing. Could you please stop with the puns."

Jean made a horribly fake pout. "You don't like my puns?"

"I just don't like puns. Period." To make his intentions clear, however, Armand started to undress. Jean followed, though it became obvious that he had a lot more practise undressing in those close quarters and he finished much quicker.

He froze for a moment, unsure how to proceed, who'd do what. That man was a mystery. He was quite weird. No, no, Jean preferred to think of him as a mystery. This might could go either way and he was up for it. But was Armand?

There was no need for Jean to worry though, because once Armand had finished undressing he quite purposefully swung a leg over his body and knelt above Jean's midsection. 

Armand looked around. "Do you have any ...?"

"Oh, yes," Jean pointed at the wall behind him. "Cabinet to the left." Then added, "no, your left."

Armand leaned forward to reach the wall and get to the cabinet. His breath hitched when he felt something warm and wet on his cock. He looked down only to see Jean lick his tip before placing a few soft kisses there. When he had leaned forward he must have dangled right in front of Jean's face, who clearly knew how to take an opportunity when it arose.

With the arms against the wall to steady himself, Armand remained in that position. Thanks, also, to Jean's hands on his buttocks. He stroked and grabbed them, but mostly it was to keep Armand where he was and stop him from sitting back down. Jean's lips parted and the tip of his tongue flicked across the tip of Armand's cock again. His legs shivered and each breath was accompanied by a moan. Some deep, some higher pitched.

"Please, Jean, I won't last like this."

It worked, Jean ceased what he was doing. Instead he held out his hand for Armand to hand over the lube and condom. He set to prepare them, granting Armand a few precious moments to catch his breath.

When he was ready Jean's fingers found their way inside. First only one, then another. In time Armand knelt lower and Jean let him set the pace at first. 

The soft gasps he elicited egged Jean on, his hands moved to Armand's back to hold him steady while he shifted his poition. He moved his hips and sat up as well. Slowly but steadily he took over the rhythm of the thrusts and went faster.

His mouth mapped every bit of Armand's neck he could reach and trapped between their bodies rested Armand's cock. Rubbing against Armand's flat stomach on one side and cushioned within the soft mass of Jean's belly on all others. With each deep breath that Jean took his tummy pressed against it again and again. He wouldn't last.

The shuddering of his body heralded his end and Jean followed suit. The strength had been sapped from him and Armand's body sacked down powerless as he sank into Jean's embrace. He lay back down and let Armand rest on top of him while they both faught to steady their breathing again.

Eventually Armand slid off to the side and fell asleep on Jean's arm. He didn't notice the rummaging as Jean cleaned them, nor did he wake up when a blanket was thrown over their naked forms to keep the warm.

As it turned out Armand had one fuck to give after all.

\----- The End -----


	22. Chapter 22




	23. Chapter 23




	24. Chapter 24




	25. Chapter 25




	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tried to turn a Cardinal's robes into a dress ...


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and here's Cardinal Regent Tréville for an alternate version of a role-reversal AU  
> for this one I tried to merge a Cardinal's robes with the attire of Regent Tréville


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> version of Richelieu if you tried to scare children into behaving. Let's assume there are more stanzas to the poem, but what mother and father say are the most commonly used

\-----

The Deceiver

'Don't leave the path'  
my father said  
'Do never leave the path'

'Don't give your name'  
my mother said  
'Do never give your name'

but woe is me  
I listened not  
to what they all had said

oh woe is me  
my voice now gone  
you cannot hear the dead


	29. Chapter 29




	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with apologies about how german the whole Birkenstock/sock situation is, I probably should have done more research XD  
> but this was what came into my mind when thinking about a doctor's footwear. Guess it is ingrained in my mind too deeply ;D


	31. Chapter 31




End file.
